


Rules

by FortinbrasFTW



Series: DueCause!Verse [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Samifer Week 2013, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 01:08:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FortinbrasFTW/pseuds/FortinbrasFTW
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick's really not allowed to bring work to bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rules

**Author's Note:**

> Did I miss Samifer Week? ... oh well. Here you go anyways. SMUT FOR EVERYONE!

It’s just cold enough that the breeze coming through the window is almost too chilly. But it’s fresh, and sharp, and smells like the sea so Sam doesn’t mind. He simply knits a hand tighter in the comforter and pulls it close over his shoulder.

Nick murmurs unhappily behind him and Sam can hear papers shuffling as he adjusts against the blankets. 

Sam opens his eyes. He can see his side table, a few papers stacked neatly, green numbers stark against the black of their alarm clock. The open window is a square of black, the other’s reflecting Nick’s bedside lamp back at him, mirroring the familiar image of their room. 

Behind him Nick turns and page, the sound of paper cutting through the space for a second.

Sam sighs and rolls to face him.

“You know, this is totally against the rules.”

“Mmm,”

He isn’t listening. He has a pen in one hand, tapping it lightly against his lower lip as his eyes scan over the page in his hands. He has his knees bent up enough to support what he’s reading and his glasses are pushed up into his hair, making it mussed and absurd looking. 

Sam grins and slides his feet over until they touch his.

Nick twitches hard, “Hey! Cold.”

“You’re not listening.” Sam insists, eyeing where the white undershirt he’s wearing is pushed up slightly on the side closest to him. He unfolds his arm just enough to reach and runs his thumb over the exposed skin.

Nick doesn’t seem to notice.

“What?” He asks, attention still focused on the papers in front of him.

“The rules, you’re breaking them.” Sam repeats.

Nick turns another page. “What rules?”

“No work in bed.” Sam says, watching his fingers where they hold the pages.

“That’s not a rule.” Nick hums.

“I think it should be.”

“Mmm,”

“You’re not really listening are you?”

Nick’s lips quirk up on one side. “Not really.”

Sam drags his lower lip between his teeth with a smile and pinches the exposed bit of Nick’s skin.

Nick twitches and reaches out blindly to shove Sam’s face back as Sam laughs and wiggles out from under his hand.

He falls back over this his own side, stretching his feet down into the cool parts of the blankets. Their bed always feels a little too big, but tall unfortunately comes with wide, and if he doesn’t want to have his feet hanging off the end of the thing every night the rest has to compensate. He thinks Nick likes it more than he does. He’s always sprawled out in the morning, like a big lazy cat or entitled royalty, loving every inch of the well earned comfort.

Nick makes a small noise of affirmation and takes his pen from his lower lip, carefully underlining something on the paper and smiling slightly. 

Sam eases into his pillow, watching him sleepily. 

Nick runs his thumb lightly over the edge of the paper, back and forth, as his eyes tighten in concentration. His brows furrow as he apparently gets to something concerning and he starts to worry his lip between his teeth, eventually letting it go to run his tongue over it soothingly, thoughtlessly.

Sam feels himself twitch against his boxers.

He inches his hand just those few inches closer, dragging his thumb over that exposed line once again, only this time he goes from top to bottom and follows the line of Nick’s hip, dragging under the edge of his boxer-briefs on the end. He works his thumb back and forth over the fold of the bone hiding there and then eases his fingertips along the line of skin, pushing them up the side of Nick’s torso, dragging along the line of his ribs and working his shirt up just that much more.

Nick’s eyes flutter once. His fingers tighten a little on the papers in his hand. But other than that he hardly gives any sign of noticing.

Sam eases his fingertips back along the line of his ribs as slowly, and then leans forward and kisses him as lightly as possible against the line of his hip. 

Nick shivers. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Sam smiles. He kisses him again, higher, so light he barely feels his skin under his lips at all. He kisses his lowest rib, rolling his hand around his back to trace nails along it. The next kiss is no more present but lets his lips open and breathes out against the line of muscle that defines the fold of his hips. He feels goosebumps shudder to life under his fingers.

“Sam,” Nick breathes. “Work.”

Sam runs the edge of his nose along his side. “So work.”

He hears Nick huff out a breath of laughter above him, and after a moment, Sam feels his body soften and sink slightly into the bed under him, like an unheard sigh or a shrouded challenge.

Sam grins, laughs roughly, in the way he knows drives Nick crazy and let’s his jaw fall open, dragging his teeth faintly across the edge of his hip bone. 

Nick doesn’t even flinch.

It doesn’t matter. Sam suddenly has a vicious urge to take his time, there’s a nice warmth building slowly in his stomach and he’s going to feed it, one stick at a time. 

Sam kisses his hip, open and breathy, sliding his tongue once over the roll of the bone right as he drags his nails gently along his side and then lays his palm flat, sliding it large and warm around his back. He pulls his mouth back just enough to purse his lips and breath out cool air along the damp line he’s left there. 

Nick turns a page, eyes focused with a little more haze on the words on the paper, lips slightly looser where the pen taps out a rhythm against them.

Sam’s hard now and he shifts his hips so he can press the weight of his cock against the give of the mattress. He rocks against it just a bit and hums out a contented tiny sound before sliding a flat hand down Nick’s thigh. It’s warm, hair scratchy under his palm. Sam runs it up and down with a few firm massaging strokes, each one moving slightly higher until the tips of his fingers are just dodging under the line of his boxer-briefs. And then he pulls back.

He takes a moment to glance up at Nick. He’s hardly changed. He’s still sitting propped up against the pillows, hair pushed around against his glasses, a small line between his brows to make his concentration. 

Sam grins, snatches the edge of the blanket and flings it aside.

Nick frowns. “Cold.”

“Mmm, sorry.” Sam says, and to prove it he leans over and breaths hot along the inside line of his thigh. 

He might be able to keep up appearances on the surface but with the blanket gone there’s really no hiding just how distracted he really is. Sam can see the line of his erection firm and tight against the stretched pull of his underwear and grins toothily as he adjusts his position. 

He eases back, shifting lower down and working his hand under the arch of one of Nick’s feet and then the other, easing his hands up and slowly massaging the muscles of his calves, urging them into something soft and loose. He let’s his eyes drift up to see that Nick’s have slipped shut, jaw hanging loose and ragged.

“Hey,” Sam hums, and the eyes are back open as if nothing happened, focused right on the paper in his hands. “I saw that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Nick says simply, inching his foot deeper into Sam’s strong hands.

Sam shakes his head with a small laugh, working his hands deeper and firmer, and higher until he’s easing them up the full length, all pressure and heat.

He runs them up both of Nick’s thighs until his hands are spread against his hips and he lets his thumbs dive in against the bones there. He’s rewards with a short twitch Nick can’t quite seem to keep to himself, as his cock jumps slightly under the fabric of his briefs.

Sam feels his own return the favor and huffs, nudging Nick’s legs to one side with his own and moving to straddle him, sitting easily on his thighs. 

He can’t help glancing down, seeing Nick’s thick erection that close under his own. He smiles and leans his head back, shutting his eyes slowly and dragging his knuckles against his own cock with a small sound. He feels Nick’s thighs tense under him and he’s repeating the action without thinking. He doesn’t rush, doesn’t chase down the sensation, just leans into it, slowly playing with the feeling as his lips drop open and he lets his tongue wet them once.

“Cheater.”

Sam’s eyes drag open.

Nick’s still eyeing the paper but there’s a smile stuck in the corners of his mouth and Sam can see where a flush is starting to play against his chest.

Sam laughs low drops his hands down to Nick’s hips, pushing his weight against them and sinking him deeper into the mattress. He lifts his hand to drag his knuckles along Nick’s cock in just the same way and then pauses for a moment before changing his mind. Slowly he scoots back and then hooks his thumbs under the elastic, tugging the boxer-briefs easily down around his thighs.

Sam let’s out a small hum of approval at the sight of him, obviously far gone with this already and then dips his head and breathes once against the line of his cock, before, slowly, and ever so lightly, running the tip of his tongue along the underside. 

Nick let’s out a hiss between his teeth and Sam can’t help clicking his tongue just a little before easing the tip of it back and forth under the head of his cock. 

It twitches hard under him and Sam drags his nails up the inside of Nick’s thighs in warning, landing them firmly on both sides of his hips as he finishes. Next time he lets just that much more of his tongue trace the line of him, and the then it’s the full flat warmth pushing all the way up, his lips circling the top just enough to feel when he gets there. Nick lets out a small frustrated noise and Sam can’t help rocking his own erection just that much against his thigh as he rolls his tongue around his head, tasting bitter already and feeling his head go a bit hazy with it.

Sam grazes his teeth a tad and he feels the hips under him stutter forward so he pushes them down and pulls back, sitting up again. 

He can feel his breath in his chest now, heavy and warm. He knows his cheeks are flushed and he’s already slack jawed, but he’s not going to be the one to break first. Nick’s still holding the papers, still holding his pen against his lips, only now his teeth are caught against it and his fingers are bending the paper in such a way Sam doubts he can read it.

Sam smiles slowly, lazily, and leans over, snatching a bottle off Nick’s bedside table.

Nick’s eyes don’t move to see what he’s taken but Sam sees his throat bob against a swallow and feels his thighs tighten under him in anticipation.

Sam smiles and brings his thumb to his lips, grazing his tongue over it once and running it in turn along the head of Nick’s cock. Nick’s eyes flutter and he brings the pen into his own mouth once against a little growl deep in his chest. And that’s really all the incentive Sam needs. 

He has a few fingers slick in a minute. He considers for a moment and then, with a grin, and absolutely no warning, slides one firm and solid directly into him. 

Nick let’s out a short huff of shock, the paper in his hands crinkling against the sudden grip of his fingers. 

Sam works his hand back and then in again, curling his finger up until he finds that spot and then he’s pushing two fingers home, working back and forth in a slow steady rhythm.

And Nick’s gone. His head’s craned back against the pillows, mouth open, chest heaving under the strain of his shirt. 

“Fuck, Sam-“ He breaths. The paper’s dropping to the floor and his hand is in Sam’s hair, gripping tight and pulling him down to his hips and Sam let’s him. He pulls his fingers back and curls them again just as he shoves his mouth down the length of his cock, tight and wet, with all the force he was holding back until now.

Nick cracks - voice moaning out hard and filthy and hand going hard in Sam’s hair. 

Sam hums around him, the warmth in his stomach now gone to a hard violent heat, but still, still he’s somehow clinging to this, somehow he’s still desperate to drag him out, spread him thin, see just how far he can actually push him before he just can’t hold back any longer.

He rolls his tongue around his cock as he pulls off and then dives back down again, hollowing his cheeks and taking his as deep as he can as one hand flicks back and forth inside him in a way that has Nick almost whimpering, another locked on his hip to keep his motions steady, forcing his motions down so firmly he’s sure there will be marks there tomorrow. 

The hips jerk as Nick huffs out small, almost miserable sounds, trying to move faster, desperate to feel more, but Sam holds him steady, keeping his pace slow and firm, dragging up and down with painful care and pressure.

“Sam, I—“ Nick gasps.

Sam eases his lips back smoothly and sits up, keeping the pace with his hand inside. He flicks his hair back from his face to look at him.

“What?” He asks. His voice has gone ragged and dark and jesus he might be enjoying this whole teasing thing way more than he should be.

“Please,” Nick growls.

Sam grins, eyes dark and slides and third finger in with the other two.

Nick’s words go breathless under him and his eyes open, dark and wild with lust as he arches hard down onto him. His glasses are still in his hair, barely, hanging off to one side. His tshirt is rucked half way up his chest and his hands are white tight on the bedsheets, pen fallen useless and forgotten against his chest.

“God,” Nick swallows hard, gritting his teeth, “Fuck me already.”

“I don’t know,” Sam grins, sliding his other hand over to ghost around his cock. “You were working… don’t you need to get back to work?”

And Nick’s almost laughing around the grit of his teeth, “Fuck, I—“ Sam tightens his grip and shoves down once, “Ah-!”

“I don’t think you deserve it.” Sam murmurs, opening his mouth hot against the line of his thigh.

Nick’s groan snatches up into a whine.

His hands scramble suddenly and at first Sam think’s they’re going to lock on his hips and tug him closer, but instead they drift, shaky and gentle, one pushing him closer with barely any force and the other pressing palm first against his still clothed cock.

Sam can’t help stuttering, easing into the touch, and Nick rewards him for it, adding pressure and stroking down as Sam gasps.

Sam breathes out a laugh. “Cheater.”

Nick grins and then gasps as Sam pulls away from him altogether. 

Sam’s out of his boxer’s in less than a second, kneeling back on the bed and running a slick hand along himself as he watches Nick cant and urge against him, chest rising and falling, hands braced behind his head.

“Fuck-“ Sam manages and then his hands are grabbing Nick’s hips and dragging him back onto him, pushing against the initial resistance and then easing in until he forgets how to breathe, gasping out words he’s not even sure of. 

Nick’s all staggered breaths under him, body pulsing against the sudden weight and pressure and then his lip is in his teeth and his heels are shoving at Sam’s thighs and Sam’s moving.

And _shit_ , dragging this out really is taking it’s toll now because before he can stop himself he’s pulling out and snapping back harder and harder, and Nick’s just got this grin on his face like he knew Sam couldn’t hold back forever, which just makes Sam want to fuck it off him, so he’s grabbing his hips hard enough to bruise and slamming him back down.

Nick’s hands are scrambling for his own cock but Sam’s get there first, snatching with still slick fingers and dragging down with the same punishing pace he’s setting and Nick barely has time to let out a choked stutter of his name in warning before he’s staggering through his orgasm, hot a sticky between them.

The feeling of him going tight and lost has Sam suddenly gasping and Nick’s hand catches in his hair pulling it just as hard as Sam likes and that does it. He’s following him, shoving him down into the mattress with a few more punishing thrusts that shake the orgasm out of him and then he’s collapsed, face heavy against the pillows and Nick’s neck, breathing in the smell of sex and their room and him. 

Nick’s chest is still rising and falling speedily under his but eventually it starts to slow. He runs a hand through Sam’s hair, soothing where he’d pulled it minutes ago.

He rolls his head just enough to kiss his forehead and sighs contently.

“I hope you realize this means I’m bringing work to bed every night?”

Sam has just enough energy to chuck a pillow at his face.


End file.
